The Coon-Dog's Diaries (vol. 4 - FoxieFang)
--------------------------------------------------------This written work is the sole property of Gratitude-Advocate (aka Michael Hall) © 2012. Do not remove the original artist's proof or alter, revise, plagiarize, or otherwise abhorrently copy this story or any passages included therein for your own benefit. Do not redistribute this story for any monetary gain in any way, shape or form without first consulting the original author's explicit & exclusive written permission. All rights have been reserved under penalty of law.--------------------------------------------------------This story is based entirely on adult-oriented fiction. The author himself does NOT condone or suggest any described behavior to be taken out in real life and will not be held responsible in one's decision to do so. Always practice safe sex with a condom and trustworthy partners. Any similarities between real events, locations and/or persons are completely and wholeheartedly coincidental. All included described characters, locations and/or events are written to represent purely fictional entities.--------------------------------------------------------Coon-Dog
Diaries vol. 4 - Foxie Fang
7/20/2016Dear Journal,
Until my encounter in a stalled
one, I've always feared elevators, leaning more in favor of taking the stairs.
I find it funny how even the most random chance occurrence can (and did - for
me at least) happen in the least likeliest of places imaginable.
Having
finished a dope delivery for a wealthy client in a sizable office building, I
should've known better. No doubt there'd be elevators in tow. I had arrived on
a weekend during a scheduled foundation renewal. Apparently the building itself
was old as fuck - roughly fifty years and counting - and wasn't in the most
tip-top of shape. Some say they could even see the thing leaning on an especially windy day. Creepy stuff, I tell you. So
there I was, on floor nineteen of thirty-eight, standing wait in a busy lobby
teeming with bustling workers. Some were human, most were anthro. There were
cheetah secretaries running with paperwork in hand to photo-copying machines
with inclined haste. A grizzled old crocodile with a spare-tire potbelly and a
burning cigar propped in one corner of his gaping jagged mandibles hollered
demands at spry young interns sat in numerous cubicles, typing diligently away
at the money-making machined provided by The Man exclusively. A few wolf-boys,
a couple foxes, one particularly attractive vixen and a fair share of humans.
Mostly Latinos, Blacks and Asians. In other words, I was in the bowels of a
company that catered to hiring minorities for work detail. Equal rights and
all. I had no issues with it whatsoever, especially in a day and age where the
White man can easily adhere all the goods and fuck what the others had to say.
I suppose to a certain fault, I understood their reasoning to keep on keeping
on. These young typists, budding secretaries, teeming with power in all ten
fingers (or finger-paws in some cases), provided power enough to make or break
the financial accounts of anyone, anywhere, anytime. That kind of power can go
to a person's brain like heroin coursing through a junkie's veins if not
holstered down well enough. Though I doubt-
The elevator bell dinged at last,
feeling like a year's waiting period. A nervous tic emanated from within my
gut. My knees became quivery and my heart sped up a few beats too much. Damned
elevator... I could easily have been down in the lower level by now. Hell, out on
the streets of Sacramento itself! But noooo,
somebody had to make a formative decision to pick today of all days to repair
and reconstruct all the accessible staircases. The emergency-access ones were
free of course, only catch was the alarm that promised to buzz off incessantly
upon opening any of these mine-traps. That wouldn't do. I had to suck it up and
bite down on that great grain of panic-inducing salt if I had hoped to get
through this damn thing in one piece. Man, how I just hated elevators to death
right then and there!
By the time the big mechanical
bastard finally arrived, I was on the verge of entering when I got cut off by
the attractive vixen from earlier. She just trotted right in my path, nearly
causing me to trip over myself in an effort to dodge her. I grunted impatiently
and gave her a miffed look. Watch where
you're going, babe. When we entered, I pushed the "*L" button, illuminating
it softly. She went to push the same button, saw me do it, then shook her head
and stepped back, clearing her throat and readjusting the knapsack slung over
her shoulder. When the doors retracted shut, so too did my throat. It dried up
on me quickly, rendering me a cotton-mouthed shep-coon wonder. I swallowed
saliva but to no avail - I was parched from nervousness.
Meanwhile, my company kept
glancing over at me in rudimentary little bouts of staring. I wondered if she
wasn't sizing me up, perhaps imagining what I looked like out of my clothing,
nude as the day in which I was born. Or maybe she just thought I was hardly the
routine demographic involved in a place like this. If I had worked here, it
wouldn't be for very long. I didn't fit in with this crowd at all. This gaggle
of white-collar 9-to-5'ers. My philosophy ran steadily with the "Rock Hard All
Day, Party Harder All Night" ideology. These working-class acolytes were hardly
worth my time of day. Though they did pay substantially well for their wares,
their vices; their fix.
Finally, I decided to return the
sizing-up.
"Young lady, are you going to
take a picture or should I stare back to even the score?" I said. All at once I
saw her shudder, practically blushing right through her cheek-tufts.
"Sorry mister... it's just that I
could've sworn I've seen you somewhere before..." She said.
"Is that so? Couldn't hardly
imagine where... I don't come here quite often. To California, I mean. And I
especially don't spend time here in SacTown either." I said to her. I was
hoping my tone wasn't too far-gone flooded with irritability or sarcastic wit. Nervousness
from the elevator itself didn't help make matters any easier.
"Maybe I've seen your face on
TV... did you have something to do with a lumber-mill explosion or something? In
Oregon, I believe it was... years ago. Ring a bell?"
"No... not really." I said. I felt
my blood began to boil and flow excessively through my veins. My synapses were
jolting exuberantly. She'd witnessed my grand outing in Eugene on the
boob-tube... and they had a pic of me on live news?!
Oh God,
maybe that incident wasn't as well-covered as I had originally hoped! Better
think of something to discuss with this girl and FAST.
"Maybe you've heard of my band?"
I replied on a whim, hoping the change of subject would settle in and suffice.
It did, much to my luck.
"Maybe?? My boyfriend is really
into music, so he might have played your stuff. What's the name of your group?"
"Enim-Noinu?" I asked.
She pondered for a second, then
shook her head with a confused gaze.
"Never heard of ya." She said. A
tiny smirk curled up from one corner of her lip and one of her eyebrows cocked
up in a curvy bend.
"Well, ain't that some shit?
We're the premier three-bodied alt-grunge group straight outta the core of
Grant's Pass, up in Oregon? That's where I was born and raised."
"Oh! No wonder I haven't heard of
you then. I was beginning to think you'd been the perpetrator of that explosion
I saw on the news. You just look familiar in that regard."
"That's crazy-funny. Must be
another shep-coon running around blowing up warehouses, eh?" I asked nervously.
"Must be." She replied.
That was when the elevator came
to a violent halt and the interior lights clicked off, replaced with a dull red
glare, similar to a photographer's darkroom enclosure. That was also when I
felt the most panic... but I wasn't about to break out into tears in front of
this anthro vixen. She was perfectly calm... I figured I could take a cue from
her.
"Oh great, now what?" She asked,
almost to herself.
"I don't know... but this isn't
cool. They'd better get somebody up here fast. What floor are we on?"
We both glanced up. The LED
counter was flashing with an "ERR" message, the way a bedside alarm blinks
after a power-outage.
"Shit, I don't know." She
replied.
I just took a deep breath
through my nose and exhaled out my mouth. After a few deep breaths in this
pattern, I sat down upon the floor of the elevator shaft and wrapped my arms
around my legs. The five-hundred dollars in my jeans pocket was a nice
commodity, but having to go through torture like this simply wasn't worth it.
That was when I remembered my cellphone. Reaching into my other pocket, I
whipped out the S4 and dialed 911. I was on the verge of pushing the green
"Send" button, then the internal headset rang a blaring furious tone. I powered
off the screen, pocketed the cell and reached for the phone. She answered it
first though, since she was closer and I had to ease up off the ground first.
"Hello? Yes, no problem. No,
just me and another. A shep-coon. Yeah. We're not too sure, the screen is
flashing with an error message. Not too bad, really. The lighting in here is
barren, but we can manage a wait if need be." She removed the headset from her
ear, cupping the mouthpiece with a hand-paw. "Can you handle an extended wait?
This is the lead technician. He says a large pigeon got jammed in the gears and
stalled the elevator. They're sending a crew out to remove the corpse and get
this thing working again. You gonna be alright until then?" She asked me.
"As if I have a choice in the
matter?" I said, shrugging cynically, sat down on the linoleum floor's surface,
cross-legged and uneasy.
She nodded, and returned the
headset to her ear. "We'll manage. Yes, thank you. Try as fast as you can,
we'll be grateful. Okay. Yes I know. Thanks again. Okay, bye-bye." She hung up
the receiver. A flurry of goose bumps prickled up in my skin, causing my fur to
stand on end as in an electric current.
"So if we're gonna be locked up
in this thing for a bit, I suppose the least we can do is get to know each other
a little better? I'm Foxie. What's your name?"
"Maxwell. Maxwell
Blackburnadeaux. Quite a mouthful, huh?"
"Somewhat. My last name is Fang.
A bit of a difference alright!"
"I suppose! So, Foxie... a bit
curious about something." I said.
"Yes?" Foxie asked with a hint
of interest blossoming in her voice.
"You been working here for very
long?" I asked.
"Hardly. I'm only sitting in on
an internship to gain credentials enough to study abroad. I'm hoping to go to
Australia really soon though, mainly to extend my studies."
"Awesome! I've known a good
number of others who decided to move to old Aussie-land for that very purpose.
I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, kiddo."
"Thank you. I appreciate any
support I can get." She said alongside a brief chuckle.
"Now if we can only get out of
this sardine-can, then things can start happening!" I said aloud in a
nearly-helpless squeal.
"They're on their way now, or so
I've been told. Hopefully that won't take too long. I don't want my mate to
worry about me any." She said. Her eyes conveyed worried disdain, but her
posture was relaxed and assured.
"Ah, no - wouldn't want that for
you either." I fondled at the cell-phone. Then an idea sprang forth out of the
murk of unsavory panic. "Hey! Want to borrow my cellphone to call him? Maybe
hearing from you will set his mind at ease and yours too."
"Nah, that's fine. He knows I'm
well. He knows it and I do too. Not worried a bit. Thanks for the offer
though." Foxie said matter-of-factly. She maintained her cool almost ridiculously
well through this entire ordeal. I was beginning to think she may have been
part Buddhist or something, seeing as how well-oriented she was with patience
and nerve-control.
"Okay then, if you insist." I
said, stuffing the cell back into my pocket.
We sat in tow for a few more
moments, bathing in assured silence. I heard the constant shuffling of papers
and beeping of electronic devices either on the floor above or below us through
the sliding mechanical doors. The elevator's cabin began to get stuffy, so I
opted to remove my shirt. I looked at Foxie. "You wouldn't mind, would you?
It's getting very hot in this thing." She already had her own blouse unbuttoned
down a few notches, exposing a considerable amount of cleavage. "Not at all. Do
what you must to become comfy. I did." Foxie said, pointing at her newly-opened
shirt-passage. I smiled and nodded, removing my shirt in a speedy flash of
movement. The thing was dampened profusely. I rung the moisture out of it and
hung it off a nearby handlebar to dry, then stood up to stretch my arms and
back out, cracking and popping with each nuanced movement.
As I did this, I heard a giggle
from behind me. I turned and looked at Foxie. Her blouse was completely
unbuttoned now and she was holding both flaps shut over her chest, almost in a
teasing manner.
"You say you play in a rock
band, sir snaps-a-lot?" Foxie asked.
"Yes, I'm the bassist and
vocalist. Not to mention the songwriter, alongside my guitarist Bradley with
all due respects, smarty-pants." I said, flinging my dreads off my shoulders
into a knotted tangle above my head.
"Well, mister rock-star, you
must be familiar with a sight like this?" She folded her arms outright and
pulled free the blouse from her torso, exposing her upper-body entirely. Her breasts,
supple and perky, an appealing C-cup by the looks of it, possessed a pair of tiny
heart-shaped areola upon her nipples. I found this sight to be an absolutely
adorable, if not feverishly arousing, one. She giggled again, then slid her
hand-paws up her thighs, fidgeting at her belt-buckle on her work-slacks. All
at once my cotton-mouth dissipated. My socket felt like it was on fire as I
stared relentlessly at her ongoing approaching advance. Topless, flirtatious,
apt to go a little wild. Holy shit, I'd never felt more like Steven Tyler than
I did just then and there. That thought granted me another spark of
inspiration. I reached quickly into my pocket, whipped out the cell-phone,
pushed a few buttons to boot up the music program, found Aerosmith's "Love in an
Elevator" and pushed Play. A sound of bustling commotion then echoed through
the moving closet from my handheld device. I propped it up into a nearby corner
at an angle, enough to let it echo and play out loud in our broken elevator.
"Actually, that's the first time
I've ever seen heart-shaped nipples. Kudos." I said after getting the device to
play some much-needed ambient background music.
"Wanna see if they taste as
sweet as they look?" Foxie asked. Her flirtatious edge was stifling now, almost
overwhelming. Damn, what did I bring out in these women?! Before I even had a
chance to ponder any further, she was propped against me, nearly dry-humping my
leg.
"Damn baby, what would your
boyfriend say?" I asked her. My shock had reached new proportions by then but
that didn't stop me from sporting a colossal boner for her.
"Knowing him, he'd join in and
film the action. Besides, you're a famous musician. I've never heard your
stuff, but I've heard OF your band before. Seen a picture somewhere, perhaps in
some local fanzine. You, that fennec-hybrid and that panda-goat-demon thing-"
"My drummer Maile, you mean?" I
intervened.
"-yeah, that's the one. I've
seen you before... that's where I remember now. I recall having felt a twinge of
attraction to you even back then. I had no clue how handsome you were in real
life, even with one eye missing." Foxie said. Her tone was almost dreamy, as if
in a trance. "You made a good choice in music to play. I approve highly of it."
She said, licking at her lips. Her face screamed promiscuity. I suppose mine
did too, to a fault. She was coming onto me very hard and I was becoming less
and less nervous by the second. Suddenly, being stranded in a goddamn elevator
was the new-found highlight in my day, not making a successfully pricey drug
exchange.
I brushed my hand-paws along the
three walls of the elevator and caused a patch of Golden Poppies to grow from
the surfaces where contact was made. This filled Foxie's expression with
unrestrained wonder, shock and awe. I doubt she'd ever seen anything quite like
it. Soon, the elevator was more of an atrium than a darkroom, flooded with a
sea of wildflowers both unique and local to the area. Ferns, lavender, sage,
lilac, dandelions, carnations, gardenia bulbs... a slew that could make even a
florist blush with tickled-pink flattery.
"How in
God's name do you do that?!" Foxie asked. A twinge of excitement held sway over
her voice, causing her to speak in a much higher than usual octave.
"The same
way I do this." I said. I tilted my head a bit to the side, creaking my neck,
then her belt began to unravel itself. The leather strap pulled through the buckle
like an inanimate snake, a living breathing thing wrapped around her
curvaceousness. It slithered through her belt-loops and came slamming down to
the ground. I then snapped my finger and caused it to rise up into the air,
twirling in a DNA-encoded pattern. Foxie stared relentlessly, jaw agape, eyes
wide as dinner saucers, breath held in tightly. My telekinesis had knocked the
wind out of her. I decided that I'd had enough show-and-tell. Now was time to
move onto more hands-on developments. But there was still her mate to consider.
I didn't want her to be unfaithful to her man.
"You're sure
you don't just want to try opening the escape hatch on the ceiling to air this
sucker out a bit?" I asked, pointing up above to the crawlspace access.
She grabbed
my shoulders and pushed me up against a nearby wall, sinking me into a bunch of
lilies. "You amaze me, shep-coon. Don't worry about a thing. This'll all be
fixed soon. The mechanics are on their way even as we... well, not speak. As for
my lover?" Foxie chuckled naughtily beneath her breath at this one. She raised
her paw-padded wrist up to her mouth to stifle another laugh, then leaned in
close to me. Close enough so that I felt her heart-shaped nips press against my
own chest. She nibbled a bit at my ear, then gave it a brief lick and said, "I
can keep a secret if you can, love. I find it important to always have close
friends at one's disposal, wouldn't you agree?"
All at once, I began to think of
the women whom I've savored in my life. I thought of Toots, Sin, RK, Maddy
& Milly. I thought of the countless girls who wooed me into a divine
slumber after countless past gigs. I thought of all those unprotected run-ins,
all those fine & fancy fucks, all those numerous knots and ejaculations and unrelenting orgasms shared in the company of others. Then I smelled a
potent whiff of pheromones. It was coming from Foxie. She was in heat, drowning
slowly in my impending deviant sexual prowess. Her scent, mixed with my musk,
must have drove her insane with insatiable lust. Fuck knows it was doing
wonders to my own hide, I could only imagine how she must've felt. After all,
she came onto me first.
"I couldn't
agree more, Foxie." I replied.
All at once,
without another word, she knelt down and tugged my pants free. I felt my cock
bob up and hang loose after being unsheathed, then I gazed down to see Foxie
fondle at the knotted baculum-rod. She touched it lightly, teasingly, while
staring back up at me with a sultry smile. I bit my lower lip and winked with
my one good eye at her, then she opened her maw wide and wrapped her muzzle
around my girth. The sensation of her tongue slathering against my shaft and
knot was sensational. This was a girl who had plenty of practice in the oral
category. I suddenly envied her mate, knowing he could have immediate access to
this any ol' time he pleased. I wasn't ever that substantial in relationships.
Never could I hold onto just one true love. My single-laden swinger antics have
put me in more than one perilous situation after another, but at least the
pleasure-factor has yet to diminish any. I saw true to that when Foxie cupped
my testes in her grip, then deep-throated me without a moment's hesitation.
"AH!
Ffffuck, you're good." I said. Panting and breathing deep, I kept my legs
spread and my hand-paw clenched down upon her head as her muzzle bobbed back
and forth into my crotch, milking me of any pre-cum that I may have produced as
a result of her radical oncoming sexual approaches. She swirled her tongue
around my shaft and squeezed my sac in a teasing manner. I felt ready to blow
my load into her throat right then and there. Probably would have too, if she
didn't reel back and gasp for air, moaning aloud and breathing just as heavily
as I was. I felt my eye-patch begin to singe. She was priming me something
fierce.
"Good?
Sugar, you don't even know the half of it yet." Foxie said to me. Her voice was
wavering but adorable. She sounded more nervous than I was, in many ways. She
stood up and unbuttoned her slacks, letting them drop to the ground around her
ankles. She wore a pair of hot-pink panties that had been soaked through in the
pillow-soft crease that covered her most sensitive area. When she pulled at the
elastic, I felt something snap in my head. A priming snap, if anything. I
growled softly at her, then knelt down myself. I leaned in and tugged her
seminal-fluid-soiled panties down to her slacks with my teeth, then gazed
upward into her eyes, seeking out permission to commence onward with it. She
lit up, her anxious expression forcing her to become somehow younger, then
nodded and grinned favorably. I smiled then brushed my wet canine nose against her
Mons teasingly. She moaned slightly from each touch closer to her holiest of
holes.
"I may not
know the half of it... but I'm willing to find out, if you'll allow me that
chance." I asked, breathing hot and heavy upon her exposed vaginal folds, red
and swollen, clit perked out from under her hood, practically winking at me.
"Yessssss...
please." Foxie said. She closed her eyes and left one half-opened. I saw her
eyes had rolled back into her head. That was plenty enough of a cue to me. I
grabbed her thighs, used my thumbs to spread her out a bit and buried my muzzle
into her vagina. She screamed and wailed, panting and moaning aloud. I brushed
my whiskers against Foxie's folds and swirled my tongue deep inside her,
feeling the skin clench tight and taut with each lashing. I was spelling my
whole name out in cursive for her with my mouth locked upon the surface of her
sex, teeth collecting pubes, saliva mixing with pussy-juice, scrumptious beyond
the stars. I let my thumb glide into her tail-hole, prodding mercilessly, while
I finger-fucked her with my other hand-paw, tonguing relentlessly at her
clitoris. She twitched and jerked while I went to work downtown on her, sensual
blonde hair swaying in her face, tail swaying beneath my chin excitedly. Her
grip was focused and she was clenched down upon my head rather tight, while
massaging at my earlobes passionately. When I had wrapped it up, my muzzle was
frothy with her indulgence and scented like the Pacific during the dry autumn
season.
"Ready for
round two then, Foxie?" I asked. By then my eye-patch was burnt through. Orange
crumbles on the ground below were all that had remained of it. In its place,
suspended in mid-air, there was a glowing purple orb in my socket. It was
festering with red ribbons. I suppose this was some intrinsic pleasure-effect
upon my powers? Whatever the case, she was diabolically amazing and I knew it
from the moment I saw her taking orders from that Mafia-looking crocodile.
"If round
two entails getting fucked hard by a rock-star in a broken elevator while the
theme song itself plays loudly, then I'm more than ready. Bring it, Mr. B. I
can take it." Foxie said. She was spread wide, dripping with moisture,
aimlessly fingering herself, licking her lips in preparation for my imminent penetration.
The scent of wildflowers mixed with the potency of our entwined sex captivated
my senses and elevated me into a new profound enlightened candor-driven high.
"Fair
enough." I said as I stroked myself a bit, then marched down upon her. I scraped
my knotted erection against her thigh and licked at her neck, kissing and slathering
upon her nape and chin. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and neck and
locked on tight, refusing to let go. I felt her tail brush between my legs and
wrap itself around my own ringed butt-limb. Her breasts were perky and her
heart-shaped nipples felt harder than dried apricots. I craned my slender
shepherd-raccoon head down and sucked upon them, surprisingly finding the taste
similar to cotton candy or pink Hostess snowballs. This drove me over the damn
edge at last. I couldn't hold out any longer. No rest for the wicked.
"Ready then,
Foxie?" I asked her, maintaining a softness in my strained voice.
"I was born
ready, motherfucker. Do me like you did all your other girlfriends." Foxie said
with unrestrained excitement.
"Okay then."
I said. I grabbed hold of my cock and pushed myself into her, slowly at first,
up to the knot. She cringed and shivered, legs wrapping tightly around my hips,
ankles locked in place right beneath the base of my tail. She looked into my
socket with profound interest, nearly hypnotized by the swirling aura-drenched
orb that resided there. After I discovered a good rhythmic pattern, I started
to hump her deliriously. She was smooth, tight as a virgin, wild and untainted.
She uttered a little girlish squeal with each fresh new pumping, which kept me
well-situated and ridiculously horny.
As I went
straight to town fucking this kinky vixen girl, she began to sing along to the
Aerosmith song... word for word. I suddenly fell more in love with her than I
could've ever cared to admit. The sound of her vocal range echoing into my ear
set me off and I began to thrust into her with radical speed and rough
insistence. Her breathing sped up and her gasps became full-fledged loud moans.
"Ah! Drill me! Harder! Fuck me, Max! Yes!"
She was a feisty one no doubt, but I honored her wishes and began to hump
harder, soon feeling my knot sliding in and out of her voluptuous folds. She
screamed and clawed at my back when that happened, biting my neck erotically
and nearly drawing blood. I clenched down hard upon her thighs and buttocks and
with my legs spread a bit for leverage, fucked the daylights out of her in an
upright against-the-wildflower-smothered-wall missionary position. Foxie reeled
her head back and I saw her tongue had lolled out from one corner of her gaping
maw and her eyelids were fluttering non-stop. I leaned in and kissed her petite
black vixen nose lovingly. I was looking into her pleasure-drunken face when I
came into her the first time. I felt her shudder beneath my grip with each rope
squirted deep into her coral seas. "New position, you fucking sexy vixen." I
said. Foxie
grinned with profound pleasure and nodded insistently. I pulled out from her
vagina, twirled her body around in a one-eighty-degree turn, forming a tiny
thin cord of jizz that went from the tip of my cock to the very cusp of her folds,
knelt her down on all fours and inserted myself into her from behind, riding
her doggy-style. Her legs spread wide and her arms reached back to caress my
waist and chest while I did the dirty deed into her with hectic persistence.
"Yes! Yes!!
YES!!!" Foxie hollered, face buried in a mound of Gypsophila, butt raised up
high and buckling wildly into my groin, tail jerking to and fro aimlessly. Her
grip tightened harder with each passing second and I figured she must be close
to enduring a climax. I leaned back and propped her up off her knees, then
straddled her upon my lap in a reverse-cowgirl pose. Her foot-paws rested upon
my knees, hand-paws clenched tightly upon my chest for support and hair
brushing against my neck, tickling at my chin, as I pushed and prodded my knot
into her folds, outstretching her relentlessly. She screamed with unfettered
lust and, nearly weeping, squirted hard upon a large growing Bird of Paradise
that just so happened to be right in her line of fire. The sensation of her
vaginal folds clenching irrevocably tight around my shaft drove me far over the
edge of sanity and reason. I shared her orgasm with her, ejaculating deep into
her pussy again, feeling the tip of my dick prodding at her cervix, knot buried
balls-deep from within. I felt my own spunk leaking out freely, dribbling down
upon my testes and the linoleum elevator floor beneath me.
Still buried
knot-deep inside her, I leaned back upon the floor and pulled her close to my
body, back resting upon my chest. I was her makeshift cot right then and there,
immersed within an organic greenhouse of dense flora.
"The song's
over..." Foxie said, giggling ever-so-cute afterwards.
"I guess it
is, huh? It isn't the only thing that's over either, methinks." I replied. I
caressed her in my grip, keeping her balanced upon my lap. All around us,
flowers drooped and swayed. Some petals from our wall-hugging antics had been
knocked loose and fallen to the floor. I reached down and began to finger at
her clitoris, pinching and flicking and rotating.
Then the
elevator doors pried open.
From the
light of outside, I saw a small group of interns, a couple security guards and
a fireman peeking in. They all stared without a word uttered, not even a cough
or a clearing of the throat. Foxie and I just stared right back, like lab
specimens in a petri-dish gawking indifferently upon interested scientists.
"Yeah, not
the only thing that's over alright." Foxie replied to me embarrassingly, gazing
back at me with lavender-hued irises blazing in the new-found light of the
outside world. One of the interns cupped a hand over her mouth, blushing
beet-red. I just laughed aloud, waving at both the group of young budding world rulers and the fireman, giving him a thumbs-up for effort in rescuing us
from the goddamn claustrophobic pit of doom.
-Maxwell H.B.